


Sometimes, Connor still dreams of him.

by sybaritick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kamski is Transgender, M/M, Manipulation, Nightmares, Past Kam/Con to Present Hank/Con, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Sadism, Wire Play, but he's not a good person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybaritick/pseuds/sybaritick
Summary: Nothing Hank had done would ever make him feel fear like that. The gentle touch of the man's calloused hands on the small of his back made Connor feel strangely protected.He sat up in the bed, and the light from his LED stuttered from yellow to red against Hank’s bedroom wall.Regardless of his honeyed words, Connor never felt like more than a shallow treat to Elijah. When Connor’s mouth was on his dick, Kamski always betrayed his intentions: he wasdelicious, or aperfect little fucktoy, orsuch a good boy.





	Sometimes, Connor still dreams of him.

**Author's Note:**

> with eternal love to [vex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waycode) and [axo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAxolotl85) for both beta'ing and inspiring this fic.

Connor pulled experimentally against the knots, twisting his wrists. Even at an angle like this, the rope could take thousands of foot-pounds of force-- more than Connor could create even if he managed to use his full body weight.

The room was filled with a discomforting silence. Elijah watched him from the doorway.

Connor’s arms were bound behind him, laced together and pressed against one another with a force that would surely bruise a human. His chest was exposed, pulled upward to show off his powerlessness and the freckles that dotted his skin. The tightness of the rope against his arms reminded him how unfamiliar he was with restraints that he could not break.

Elijah smiled at Connor's attempt to pull his wrists apart. He sat on the edge of the bed where Connor was kneeling, thighs level with the android’s mouth.

"Don't hurt yourself, Connor."

Connor was still, willing himself not to lean his forehead against the edge of the mattress for rest.

(Between Kamski’s legs.)

“Continuous filament polyamide,” Kamski said. “Simple nylon rope. On a human it would chafe, of course. But for you I prioritize durability. Your strength is deceptive.”

The thirium tubes in Connor’s forearms tingled with disuse as the rope cut off circulation to his fingertips.

Kamski looked away and waved an easy hand at the blinds. They opened obediently, casting a sliver of light across the android's sleek calves.

He gave a soft hum of approval, cupping Connor’s chin and lifting it to look into his eyes.

"You look very beautiful like this, Connor," he murmured, gently pushing his fingertips into the hair at the base of Connor’s neck. "So exposed.”

Kamski's hand curled around the back of his neck as his gaze traveled down his belly, down the slight ridge between his abdominal muscles-- a softness to his form that suggested grace more than strength.

Deceptive, like much about him.

Kamski traced a line up Connor's throat with two fingers, and a panel opened with a pleasing click. The opening was barely big enough for a hand to squeeze through, and ringed with a glistening tinge of mechanical lubricant. Elijah ran his thumb along the edge, lifting the blue fluid from the panel before smearing it across Connor’s cheek.

Connor was silent.

"Ah-- don't be nervous, Connor, you know this is more than safe for you.”

Connor did not look nervous.

Elijah leaned down to grope at the slight softness of his waist, and pulled him just a touch closer before licking his lips.

“All regular maintenance, of course."

And the corners of his mouth quirked up at this pathetic, perfunctory excuse-- the grace he was obligated to say before taking his fill of Connor’s body. Connor, who was already kneeling at his feet and bound at the wrists.

It would have been more respectable to say nothing at all. Kamski gobbled up the android’s powerlessness like he was starving-- though both knew he was anything but. His ego was overfed to bursting with the promises of obedience he pulled from Connor’s sweet tongue.

It was not enough for an appetite like his; no, Kamski would have all of him.

Connor opened his mouth to answer, and Kamski pulled two thin wires in his neck.

"Your--" Connor started, immediately cut off by the tension in his vocal cords. Kamski drew the pair of wires out further until he could feel them strain against the connected biocomponents; they were nearly an inch out from his neck. It drew a low, static buzz from the android's mouth.

"Hah-- ahhh--" the android managed breathily as the man traced his thumb up the length of a thirium-filled tube deeper in his throat.

Kamski curled a finger around the bundle of cables-- all together, they were still only about a centimeter thick. He pulled them taut, and rivulets of thirium ran down his forearm. Connor glanced for a moment at the small puddle on the hardwood.

Elijah pulled a penknife from the pocket of his sweatpants and flicked it open.

“NHA--” Connor barked as he wrenched away from Kamski’s hands.

His face was pressed to Elijah’s thigh, and the man kept his grip on the wires in Connor’s throat as he ran his fingers back and forth over the dull side of the knife.

Connor made another pathetic sound, pushing against Kamski’s thigh to distance himself by another few inches.

Kamski folded the knife and returned it to his pocket. Connor visibly softened.

"No knife, hm?" Kamski offered, gently running his thumb along Connor's jawline.

Connor bit back the vile words in his throat; he knew he wouldn't be able to speak them anyway.

Connor could see Kamski's erection tenting his loose sweatpants. He despised the muscle memory that encouraged him to lean closer to it. Kamski shifted on the bed, resting a heavy hand on Connor's shoulder. It was cruel in a way that could only be felt-- his fingers dug into Connor's cool skin, and Connor felt like the toy he was.

Kamski stirred again, standing to shift his sweatpants and boxers unceremoniously down his thighs, leaving his cock fully exposed for Connor to take. It was cybernetic, Connor knew, much like his own when he had it attached; not human. Elijah’s cum tasted like thirium and chlorine.

This was better.

Connor swirled his tongue over the tip of Kamski’s cock and jolted out of stasis before he could take it in his mouth.

Dream. It had been a dream. The update from two weeks ago, he had to remember, he had to remember it wasn’t real, and still it was so hard--

He sat up in the bed, and the light from his LED stuttered from yellow to red against Hank’s bedroom wall.

This was his third nightmare since he had been given the ability to have dreams at all. He had wondered last time whether the other features of the update made this worth it or not.

Nothing Hank had ever done, no gentle touch of the man's calloused hands on the small of his back as he pulled Connor into that strangely protective embrace, would ever make him feel fear like that. And still...

Regardless of his honeyed words, Connor never felt like more than a shallow treat to Elijah. When Connor’s mouth was on his dick, Kamski always betrayed his intentions: he was _delicious,_ or a _perfect little fucktoy,_ or _such a good boy_.

It was only ten months back that Kamski had first slipped his fingers into the panels and seams in Connor's exterior. His hands weaseled their way inside him like hungry eels, pulling at his wires. He was always so _wanted_. Kamski wanted to take and take and take and the wanting wound around his biocomponents and his thoughts leaving nothing but blinding pleasure, a heat and brightness and pathetic little sounds he should have been too proud to make.

And he would have kept doing it, kept playing with Connor until he tired of him or finished off what was left of his naivety.

He hadn’t chased Connor when he left, no; he had been too confident that he would come crawling back.

(After all, Connor had tried to leave once before.)

Connor’s body shivered, and he felt his fingertips tingle. He looked to Hank, who was asleep on the other side of the bed. He was a heavy sleeper. Connor took a slow breath.

And when Connor was in bed with Hank and felt the man’s beard against his inner thighs, there was once or twice he thought of Kamski, only _once or twice_ \-- the way Elijah’s practiced fingers slipped between his biocomponents-- and it was only when he wouldn’t have been able to see Hank’s face, and he would never--

He cut himself from continuing this train of thought further, and his eyes darted back to the light he cast on the wall: yellow, yellow, yellow.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @sybaritick 😘


End file.
